A Hard Day's Night

Steve and Maxine had been happily married for three years, but their relationship had started a long time before their marriage. As childhood friends, they had done everything together, shared the same toys, the same pets (a cat named Fanny, and a parrot named Donatien); Steve knew Maxine's moods like he knew his own.

So when she came home one night sullen and limping in her glossy black sandals, he knew that she had had a bad day.

"Hey, Max, honey, what's up?"

"Nothing."

Nothing, my ass, thought Steve. Her hair was tied up in a tight ponytail, and the fine baby hairs that fringed her forehead were plastered to her mocha skin with sweat. The shadows under her velvet eyes betrayed her irritation and exhaustion, and the way her lips pressed tightly together told him that at least one of her bosses at the firm had given her a hard time.

With this knowledge, he carefully asked, "Hard day at work?"

Max glared at him and walked out of their living room and up the stairs. Steve could hear her stomping here, slamming this, throwing that -- it was a war zone up there, and it needed to end.

He knew what needed to be done, and he intended to do it to the best of his ability.

He turned off the television, and listened closely for running water. The house was silent for a long time, and in that time Steve proceeded to set up his workspace in the guestroom.

The guestroom was spacious and unfurnished, save for a large bed in a corner, and a chair in the center.

The bed was a king-sized, velvet cherry wood work of art, with angels carved in high relief up the legs and along the frame. The plush pillows were creamy white, to match the feather-light sheets and the clean walls. The bed ate up a whole side of the room, and the canopy's curtain fell from the ceiling and pooled on the floor like liquefied pearls.

The chair in the center was another cherry wood majesty, with the back rising much higher than the normal person's head; flowers morphed from the edges, and two large leaves converged at the utmost point, which rested directly above the center of the exquisite piece of furniture. The arms of the chair were long enough to comfortably drape legs over them, and they curled into perfect scrolls at the end. This chair faced the balcony, and the lights that hung on either side of the glass portal leading to it.

It was perfect for what Steve had planned. The only things missing were a stool, some lotion, and a stereo. He carried them all in without a sound, and, upon looking at the room once more, found he was missing candles and sweet almond massage oil. A split second before the shower turned on, he brought the items in and snuck up to the bathroom door.

Maxine eased herself into her tub with a groan. Between getting scolded for misplaced files and scolding her own department for those files, it was a miracle she could make any sound at all. And with all the storming, the stomping, and the running she did that day, not to mention lifting and carrying so many boxes of file folders, she was surprised she made it home, let alone to the bathroom.

"God," she muttered aloud, and she reached up to shut her starch white bath curtains, wincing at the soreness in her arms and lower back. She sunk back and lifted her aching feet up on the edge of the bath tub, and let the sound and feel of running water sooth her.

She was so mesmerized that didn't hear Steve open the bathroom door, sneak in and lock it.

He tiptoed nimbly to where she rested her head and deftly yanked a stool from the wall to take a seat. He reached for a towel and a bar of soap, and at that moment, Max sat up sharply and looked around. Steve crouched, and held his breath, wondering what Maxine was going to do next.

After a minute, Max lay back and closed her eyes once more with a loud frustrated sigh. Just to be sure, Steve waited a little while longer before resuming his business around the bathroom.

Back when they had bought their house, Steve had asked that dimmers be installed in certain rooms in the house, without Max's knowledge. He'd kept it a secret as long as he could, but eventually, she found out, and she'd been careful to avoid those rooms whenever she was in an angry mood, simply because when she was in an angry mood, she never felt up for a wild romp between the sheets.

Now, Steve pressed the button, and heard Max sit up and furiously scream, "Steve! Damn it all to hell, your lights are screwing up again!"

A grin flashed across his face and he tiptoed back to his stool. He picked up the towel and the soap, sat down, and whispered, "No, they're working just fine."

Max jumped, then groaned and rolled her eyes. "Steve, come on, I'm not in the mood, okay?"He made no response; he simply rolled up his sleeves and rubbed the soap and the towel together in the water.

"I'm serious!

When he still made no response, she grabbed the towel and tried to wrench it out of his hands. He quickly pulled it back, then laughed and said, "Oh stop. Just relax."

He slipped a hand over her shoulder, to let it rest between her breasts, and brushed her hair back away from her face tenderly with his other hand. For a moment, she seemed to relent, and Steve took the opportunity to kiss her collarbone. Her eyes closed, and she leaned her head back onto his shoulder. He could feel her relaxing at his touch, but before he could do what he meant to do, she sat up and said, "I'm tired."

Steve pulled her back firmly, but tenderly, nonetheless, and said, "That's alright; you're not going to be doing any work anyway."

Before she could protest, he picked up the wet soapy towel and began to bathe her.

"Oh, Christ," she muttered, and squirmed until he stopped. "I'm really not in the mood."

He watched her for a moment, then stood up and snapped, "Fine."

Max bit her lip. He was only trying to do something nice and spontaneous. Maybe just a little bit, and then she could shoo him off.

"Okay! Alright, fine, just a bit."

He stopped at the door, halfway through, and turned to glare at her. "No, I think I'm going to go over to a friend's house, maybe Dan's or Jase's."

Max scrambled up and tugged him back into the bathroom. She shoved him down on the stool and slipped back into the tub, resting her feet on the edge of the tub closest to him.

He gave her "The Look." She always loved and hated The Look; it was always such a sexy scrutiny, such a sharp glare, but it also made her feel silly and childish, and not a little irritated.

She wiggled her toes and said, "Come on, get on with it! You know you want to."

"Maybe I'm not in the mood."

Max rolled her eyes. "Okay, I guess you're not feeling like a man tonight. That's alright. I'll just stay here and enjoy the water, 'cause it looks like that's all I'm going to be enjoying tonight."

She hooked her leg over the edge of the tub and lifted her hips. Steve's eyes locked on her core. His eyes began to smolder, and he wet his lips. He came closer to the edge of the tub.

Seeing his reaction, Maxine rested her hips once more and lifted her leg off the tub's edge, hiding a wince as pain coursed up her legs.

Steve watched her bring her foot down in front of his eyes down to his chest, where it rested with the lightness of a feather. That seemed to remind him of his purpose, for he promptly took her foot in his hand and sucked her big toe. His fingers gently pressed and rubbed, and Maxine indulged in the thrilling sensations. She sunk lower into the tub, and rested her head on the edge of the tub behind her. She watched him eagerly, aroused by the feel of his hands on her sensitive skin, excited by the diligence of his tongue on her toe.

But when his tongue crossed her instep, she could watch no longer. She lay back, closed her eyes, and slid her hand down to her core for relief.

Suddenly, Steve stopped.

"What?" She looked at him, confused.

"No touching," he said. She stared for a moment. " I told you you wouldn't be doing any work tonight, didn't I? And you'd do well to learn some restraint. So no touching; wait until I finish."

Maxine's mouth hung open, and her hand remained on her core. Steve sighed and walked out.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

He returned with a tie and took both her wrists in his hand.

"Wait a second," Max snapped, "you can't be serious."

"I am," he said as he tied her hands to the safety bar above her. Because her bath tub was so high, and her safety bar placed in proportion with the steps leading up to the edge of the tub, and not the bottom of the tub itself, her arms were stretched comfortably to the point of very limited movement. She watched him in shock.

"Now, don't move," Steve whispered. He took her other foot and grazed the instep lightly with his teeth. Her eyes shut involuntarily, and she rested her head back against the wall.

He sucked her toes, and massaged her feet, until she all but cried with sexual desperation.

"Steve, are you done yet?"

"Don't rush me, or I might be tempted to double check my work," he responded deviously.

Maxine bit her upper lip and did her best to stifle a whimper. A deep chuckle escaped his lips, and he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. Maxine's eyes shot open. Her voice trembled with anticipation.

"What are you going to do to me?"

That question alone had him grinning so deviously, that the buds on her breasts tightened just by looking at him.

He plunged his hand under the clear water and began to expertly work her. His thumb worked her clit in quick tight circles, while his index and middle fingers made mean work of her inner path.

Maxine moaned, closed her eyes, and began to lean her head back. But Steve stopped her with his other hand, catching her chin and forcing her head up. He patted her cheek and clicked his tongue.

"Uh, uh, uh," he chimed," don't close those brown eyes. I want you to look at me. Or watch my hand. But don't --"

Maxine's eyes were wide, locked on his hand and her core. Her moans grew louder, and Steve's voice with it.

"Don't --"

Maxine came closer and closer to the edge, her moans morphing into incoherent shouts of passion.

Steve was right in her ear, crying out with her. "For the love of god," his voice rose with hers, and just as she came to the finish he pleaded, "don't close your eyes!"

She thrashed, her body bucking under Steve's nifty fingers, and her cries resounded tenfold. Her eyes were half closed, and her brown eyes burned beneath her lids.

"That's it," he whispered. "Good girl."

As her orgasm reached its close, Maxine relented and shut her eyes. Her head fell back against an arm. Steve kissed her swiftly and stood up.

Maxine worked her mouth, but no sound came for a few seconds. Then: "Steve, are you going to untie me yet?"

"Nope."

Maxine's protest died on her lips as she watched him remove his shirt. His musculature rippled with the smallest movement, and the water that had soaked through his shirt during her thrashing orgasm glistened on his skin like crystals.

Maxine eyed his pants eagerly, but much to her confusion, he sat on the edge of the tub and pulled her out of the water and onto his lap.

She felt her body being stretched as he lifted her hips and left the rest of her suspended and dangling by the tie that bound her wrists to the safety bar.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't close your eyes," he whispered. "Watch me."

He held her up, hoisted her legs over his shoulders and brought her hips up to his lips.

"Steve, oh God," she gasped.

He pressed his lips to her swollen clitoris and chuckled. The vibrations sent her spiraling into a sexual frenzy. She wanted desperately to close her eyes, but Steve's eyes were locked on hers, and they smoldered.

She panted, and moaned, and her head shot back, She forced it back up to watch Steve taste her in full, and the thought of him tasting her drove her mad. Steve began to hum against her, and she gasped. The thrill cut her breathing short, and she froze and tightened. With a sound between a grunt and a scream, she climaxed and relaxed, her voice easing into a moan. Sweat slicked her body and her breast shook with every breath. She tightened once more and squeezed her eyes shut, and came just as he pulled away.

"How do you feel now," Steve asked gently after a moment of silence, during which he set her down and her moans quieted to whimpers.

She smiled softly and muttered, "Really good, but I think I'd feel better if you gave me my arms back."

"Oh! Right." He laughed and untied her arms. "You must be really sore. Sorry, but you were being uncooperative."

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that; I was in a piss poor mood. I'm going to bathe now. You got me all sweaty." She giggled and winked.

"Didn't I tell you that you weren't going to be doing any work tonight?" Maxine blinked.

"What?"

"I'm going to wash you. You're going to let me wash you."

Immediately, she began to protest, but stopped abruptly when he held up the tie. She swallowed and said, "Alright! Okay."

"Good girl. Now, just relax."

Steve looked around for the soap and towel, and proceeded to bathe her. He was gentle, and asked her if the water was warm enough, if he was being too rough. Maxine felt her tension escaping her body, and sunk lower into the tub.

He caressed her breasts slowly, like an art lover admiring a Picasso. She watched his face, wondering what he was thinking. He caught her staring and kissed her tenderly. His thumb flicked across her nipple, and, in response, Maxine arched her back. His whole hand now held her, and their kiss grew fiercer. When he pulled away, he looked drunk with passion, wild with devotion. One look at her made him need so badly. Knowing this, Maxine cupped his face in her hands, and with a silent imploration, brought him down to her breasts. Obediently, reverently he kissed her, as if each breast was a delicate fig he wanted to taste forever.

She stroked his head, and groaned as he flicked his tongue back and forth, back and forth over her sensitive skin. Her hands tightened as the sensation grew to be too much to bear, and she whispered his name.

Her voice made him remember what he had been doing, and he proceeded down her body, across her belly, just at her core. She quivered when he got there; she was still a bit dazed from her first two orgasms. But his hands slipped away to her thighs, then her calves, then her feet.

"Stand," he whispered. She rose slowly, and the water cascaded down her body like sheer cloth. He washed her everywhere, stroking and cleaning with diligence, and admiration at his wife's beautiful body. He turned the showerhead on, and locked eyes with her. Unable to restrain himself, he lunged and kissed her. She clawed at his belt and ripped open his fly, but he stopped her.

"No working, remember?" He smiled, turned off the showerhead, and carried her into the other room.

When he took her into the guestroom, she looked up at him, confused. "What are we doing here?"

He set her down on the mattress and slipped out of the room. Before she could call him back he returned with a towel.

"Lie down."

She did so. He began to dry her off, and she struggled to keep still. She wanted him; the foreplay, the wait was driving her insane. She sat up and reached for his pants, but he pinned her down.

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm teaching you restraint."

She rolled her eyes and sighed, frustrated and impatient. He finished his task, and flipped her over like a doll.

"Hey!"

He chuckled and kissed the small of her back. "Don't move or I'll tie you down."

She propped herself up and turned around. "What are you going to do?"

He walked to the middle of the room, and the light from the balcony through him into an intense portrait of light and shadow.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Close your eyes and relax. And lie down."

"Just a minute ago you were telling me to keep my eyes open," she muttered, but complied. She waited for a minute, and then peeked. He was nowhere to be found.

"I'm over here, hon." She looked behind her, and saw him kneeling over her. "Lie down."

She closed her eyes and lay down on the mattress, indulging in its softness. She felt something cool on her back, then felt Steve's hands gently smoothing it on her skin.

"God," she murmured. If she hadn't relaxed before, she certainly relaxed now. Her sore muscles weren't so sore anymore, and her bad day was locked at the back of her mind, forgotten. As his hands smoothed over her buttocks and her thighs, all Maxine could think about was taking him. She wanted to feel him, not just his hands, but his whole body. As he finished the massage, she rolled over and asked him to take her. His eyes flashed, and she knew he would break.

"You can't wait?"

"No," she whispered. He lifted her up and carried her to the chair in the center of the room.

"Don't move." He set her down and left.

She waited for awhile, and the smell of the lotion he used enticed her. He returned with a box.

"Get off the stool."

"Steve!"

"Do you want me? Then do as I say."

She obeyed like a child, pouting and grumbling, watching him place the box on the chair and open it. He pulled out ropes, then closed the box and said sharply, "Sit down."

"On the box?" She placed her hands on her hips, then squealed when he lifted her impatiently and set her down on the box. He tied each leg to an arm, then tied her arms together and brought the ends of that rope down to her ankles.

"Now, be a good girl and sit still." He thumbed her clit until she screamed, "I'm almost there!"

When he stopped, she gave an incoherent whine and said, "Please?"

He stepped back and watched her. "I don't think you understand how much thought I put into this."

She put her head back, panting with anticipation. "Then why don't you just leave me here and let me enjoy myself with my fingers."

She looked up at him, knowing this would set him off enough to release her. But he grinned and pressed his thumb to her clitoris. She whimpered. He rubbed until her hips were moving of their own accord, then stopped.

She cried out in frustration and screamed, "Steve, stop!"

"I did!" He laughed.

"What's the matter, scared?"

He chuckled and said, "Nice try."

"Fine. Maybe I should find service elsewhere."

Maxine hadn't known the impact of her statement until he was right in front of her, with his pants off and his dick poised like a sword in front of her core.

"I'll be damned if I don't want to rip you apart and make you eat your own words."

Before she even opened her mouth to say, "do it" he was already inside her, pounding his flesh into hers, growling like an animal defending his territory. She tugged at the ropes binding her hands; she wanted to cling to him, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, but the ropes made that impossible.

He grazed her shoulder with his teeth, and she moaned piteously. "Steve, go faster," she implored, and like a demon he complied. She screamed with every thrust, and he placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.

He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "How's that for service?" She mumbled something, and he slowed down.

"What was that?"

She gasped. Every inch of her body felt the sensation of each slow impalement.

"Yeah, I'll bet you can't find this kind of service anywhere."

Again, she mumbled.

"Tell me; are you in the mood now?"

Maxine took a deep breath and whispered, "Oh, yes."

"Good girl."

He slammed against her and she threw her head back. He immediately picked up the pace; she bit his shoulder, then leaned back and howled.

"Steve, go faster!" Their shouts melted to incoherent cries; Steve gripped her thighs tightly, and nestled his face into her neck; Maxine's hair was plastered to her face, and her mouth hung open. Her scream cut off abruptly when she climaxed, and as she gasped for air, Steve grunted and came. He kept pile driving into her long afterwards, ignoring her when she squealed, "Wait!"